Rulers of Deception (10 page)

“With you in there, sweetheart, that water doesn’t stand a chance of cooling off.”

W
hen Wyatt pulled into the valet area of the hotel the next day, his eyes scanned for the black van. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary eased his mind and had him adding an extra twenty to the Valet for a tip.

He adjusted his black fedora and removed his aviator sunglasses as he entered the lobby, feeling sentimental as he took in the beauty that surrounded him. Madison’s doing, he knew. Everything from the carefully selected damask fabric on the sofas and chairs in hues of royal blue and gold to the travertine tile floor showcased her love of tradition and elegance. The beautifully arranged white lilies and orchids that rested on mahogany end tables and the front counter brought freshness and light to that tradition. She was, above all else, a master of contrasts.

Wasn’t that exactly what had intrigued him about her since the beginning? She knew how to keep cool under pressure, and yet she never lost that flare of fire in her eyes. It remained there, burning brilliant and bright and more than a little dangerous.

He lived for that kick of danger, that swift shock to the system that hurt and pleasured at the same time. It meant, above all else, that he was alive.

A smile crept over his face at the thought as he made his way to the elevator. Before he could punch the button for the second floor, someone called his name.

“Wyatt! Hey, boss, how ya doin’?”

He froze, his eyes closing in regret. He’d never thought he’d hear that voice again. He turned slowly and looked at his old friend. “Jimmy.”

Jimmy Moretti grinned ear to ear as he approached, slapping Wyatt on the shoulder. “I knew you’d remember me. How long’s it been?”

“Ten years.”

Jimmy hadn’t changed, at least not much. There were more lines fanning out around his dark, heavy-lidded eyes, flecks of gray in his trademark moustache and in his messy curls of black hair. He seemed thinner, if that was possible, his shoulders hunched and draped in an oversized red button-up shirt and jeans. A nervous tick that hadn’t been there ten years earlier flickered in Jimmy’s right eye.

It hit Wyatt then that he shouldn’t be seen with the man, old friend or not. That part of his past was still successfully under wraps. If Linc walked by, or worse, Grant, then it would only bring up questions that he had no intention of answering.

“Come this way,” Wyatt ordered, grabbing Jimmy’s shoulder and dragging him through a door and down a hallway that led to a maintenance and storage area behind the hotel’s kitchen.

Jimmy shuffled along, then looked up at Wyatt when they stopped. “You ashamed of me or somethin’? I know I’m ugly, man, but c’mon.”

“It’s not that.” Wyatt sighed, removing his fedora to run his hand through his hair. “It’s just been a long time, Jimmy. I’m not the same guy I was.”

“I can see that,” Jimmy observed, eyeing Wyatt from head to toe. “Got yourself a rich wife. Bravo, boss.”

Wyatt frowned. “How do you know that?”

“Even I can read the papers. That’s how I knew I’d find you here.” Jimmy leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms and ankles. “Look, I know this ain’t kosher, me showing up like this. But—”

“No, it’s not.” Wyatt growled, his temper flaring. “I’m sorry you got busted, but there was nothing I could do.”

“I don’t blame you for that, boss.” Jimmy shook his head with a light laugh. “You told me you wanted nuthin’ to do with the coke and I respect that, which is why I did my time and never once said nuthin’ about you to the cops. I ain’t no rat.”

Wyatt felt his anger deflate just as quickly as it had come. The old memories resurfaced, painful and dark. “I remember when I heard you got picked up by the DEA at the border. I was already halfway to Vegas by then.”

“And on to your new life,” Jimmy added with a hard grin. “Hey look, I don’t blame you. We had some good times together, you and me. We go way back. It makes me happy to see you doin’ so well.”

Wyatt pushed back the memories and nostalgia and met his old friend’s gaze pointedly. “Why are you here?”

“Two things…first, I came to warn you.”

“About what?”

Jimmy uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands into his jeans pockets instead. “I caught wind that Franco’s got it out for you. He wants you dead.”

A spark of fear lit a tiny fire in Wyatt’s gut, then extinguished. “He knows where to find me. If he wanted me dead, he could’ve done it any time in the last year and a half that I’ve been in New York. My presence here hasn’t exactly been a secret.”

“That’s just it though, isn’t it?” Jimmy pointed out, shrugging. “Franco never does nuthin’ without a plan. My source says he’s been biding his time since he found out you’re here. Figurin’ out the best way to hit you, where it’ll hurt the most. You know how it goes. These cartel guys never let go of a grudge. Once you’re on their hit list, it’s for life.”

Wyatt immediately thought of the unmarked van outside his home with Madison, the fear returning. “What else did your source tell you?”

“Just that he’s lookin’ for me, too.” Jimmy brushed off the idea, though Wyatt sensed his friend’s fear. “Guess he never got over what we did back in Bogotá.”

Wyatt let out a long, uneasy sigh, leaning against the wall opposite Jimmy. He let his head fall back and shut his eyes. “All right. So what’s your second reason for being here?”

“I need some cash.” When Wyatt shot him an irritated look, Jimmy held up his hands defensively. “Before you say it, hear me out. I just got outta the joint two months ago. I can’t find a job, ain’t got a family no more, no friends. I got nuthin’, boss. Just you.”

“And I just happen to be married to a very wealthy woman.” Wyatt grimaced, furious now. “Look, I’m sorry you’re in the situation you’re in and I appreciate you giving me the heads up about Franco, if I even decide to buy in to the bullshit that he’s got me on his hit list. But I can’t help you. If Madison or anyone else gets a whiff that you’re here, then I’m going to have to explain some very bad secrets I don’t care to explain.”

“I just need a few hundred, maybe a grand, to get by,” Jimmy said, desperation in his voice. “I know you got that boat business, the townhouse on the Upper East Side…can’t ya find a way to slip me some cash without your old lady findin’ out?”

Wyatt’s eyes narrowed to dangerous slits, thinking of the van again. “You know where I live?”

Jimmy ignored the question. “It’s easy enough to get lost in this city, boss, but I need some cash to get me underground. I don’t know how long his people will be in town—”

“The cartel is here?”

“So I heard. That’s why I came to warn you.” Jimmy shrugged. “I can get you access to hardware in exchange for the cash, if you’d like. I know a guy who knows a guy can get you some black market shit. No serials, untraceable. Might come in handy right now.”

Wyatt rubbed his face with his hands. As ridiculous as the idea sounded, part of him wondered if carrying a gun could become a necessity. His hands fell away and he sent Jimmy a warning look. “I can’t help you, Jimmy. I’m sorry. I have a wife to protect now.”

The tick in Jimmy’s eye fluttered. “How’re ya gonna protect her, Wyatt? You know how Franco works, how he makes you the mouse to his cat. He’ll hit you from every angle to destroy your reputation, then he’ll turn the world against you. After that, when every single person you love hates your guts, he’ll start killing them off and framing you for it. Remember, he did that to that Luis guy who cheated him on a drug deal. Poor bastard went to prison for killing his entire family. Then Franco’s boys on the inside gutted him and bled him dry. That’s what he’ll do to you, and to me, if he can catch me. Though I ain’t got no one but you, boss, so he’ll know you’re a more satisfying target, what with the Vassers and all.”

Jimmy’s words disturbed Wyatt. So much so that he felt the cold lick of terror and anxiety skitter up his spine. He knew Jimmy was right. He’d seen Franco’s cold, cruel nature for himself. But that didn’t mean he fully trusted his old friend. Jimmy was never one to tell it straight, leaving Wyatt to navigate through verbal somersaults and cartwheels until he finally got what he wanted, if he ever did.

“It’s too bad what’ll happen to this place once Franco’s done with you,” Jimmy said regretfully, looking around the hall. “The Vassers don’t deserve that, boss. And you know it.”

Wyatt felt the rage simmering just under the surface of his skin, mixing with the fear. Only over his dead body would Franco ever lay a hand on the Vassers. But the thought alone was enough to knock some caution into his system.

“You need to go.” Wyatt dug into his back pocket for his wallet, pulling out a stack of hundreds. “Here’s four hundred. Go and don’t you dare show your face around here again.”

Jimmy’s brows shot up as he accepted the cash and pocketed it. “All right, all right. I get the message.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Wyatt stormed out into the lobby, needing fresh air. He sucked it in with grateful gasps, his vision hazed red with violence. When he saw Jimmy wander into the lobby and disappear into the crowd, Wyatt made the instant decision to take cover once again. There were too many people around, including the front desk clerk who was watching him curiously. One wrong move and he’d slip back and tell Linc something that could lead to a whole host of questions. Better to disappear.

He ducked back into the hallway and made his way closer to the kitchen storage area, then stopped when he rounded a corner and spotted Raoul. Had the man been back there the whole time?

Raoul pretended to be organizing one of the shelves packed with dry food items, but when he saw Wyatt he stood and faced him.

He nodded in the direction of where Jimmy had just left. “Who was that?”

The surprise on Wyatt’s face turned into a sneer. “An old friend.”

“Connected to the cartel?” Raoul puffed out his chest as he crossed his arms, anger etching the lines of his face. “Do not try and lie to me,
cabrón
.”

For a long moment, Wyatt said nothing. He weighed the situation in his mind and wondered if Raoul had heard as much as he was leading on.

Deciding to take his chances, he shook his head. “No. Next time have some goddamn respect and don’t eavesdrop.”

Without another word he stalked off, leaving Raoul to dwell on his suspicions.

Wyatt went immediately upstairs, realizing he was ten minutes late for the lunch date with his wife. Knowing Madison, she’d already be working on a temper over the inconvenience. In all honesty, he was too troubled to care.

Part of him wanted to just make some excuse and leave the hotel. Hop in his car and get out of the city for a few hours, get some air. He felt suffocated by the cloud of paranoia hovering over him, giving him a sense of being watched. Had it been Franco’s men who’d been outside his home the night before? Were they gathering information to take back to Franco?

But no, it made no sense. Franco’s men couldn’t just waltz into the United States without setting off red flags. Unless he had people on the inside already, which Wyatt knew was likely. Franco had to transport the drugs somehow.

Feeling sick, he walked past Carrie without saying a word and barged into Madison’s office, not even caring if it irritated her. When she looked up and saw him, he realized he must be wearing his fear all over his face. Her concerned look told him as much.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he lied, shutting the door and stuffing his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting. His mouth set in a hard smile as he slid his mask back into place. “Just a little rattled. Almost t-boned some jackass in a Lexus that pulled out in front of me. I caught up with him and gave him a piece of my mind.”

Madison continued to stare at him, unsure if he was telling the truth. If he wasn’t, she’d get it out of him eventually. “Sounds like an exciting afternoon.”

A laugh escaped his lips, more sick than amused. If only she knew…

“I’m not made for the city, sweetheart. Not like you are. The traffic drives me crazy.” He rounded her desk so he could rub her shoulders, easing her tension and his own. The feel of her warm skin beneath his hands erased some of the aftereffects of the conversation with Jimmy.

In all likelihood he was overreacting. Why the hell would a guy like Franco hold onto a grudge for an entire decade? Jimmy had likely heard some bad information, or he’d brought it up purposely to get money. Which he’d been successful at, the bastard.